


It's Time to Kill the Turtle

by Enochianess



Series: Dirtiest white boy in America [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite, Episode Related, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, It's Time to Kill the Turtle, M/M, Masturbation, POV Mickey Milkovich, Season/Series 01, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Workplace Sex, mostly just smut tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochianess/pseuds/Enochianess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 1 Episode 8 - Mickey focused</p><p>Mickey didn't know how to explain it, but he felt like an addict.<br/>It'd only taken the one hit. But Mickey was hooked.</p><p>Mickey banged his forehead against the tiles.<br/>Fucking Gallagher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Time to Kill the Turtle

**Author's Note:**

> I can't get enough of Mickey Milkovich and I don't think his side of the story was explored enough on the show, so I'm writing his story canonically episode by episode and adding and expanding upon the scenes as I see fit (And yes, this does include smut, because their kiss and sex scenes were virtually nonexistent). All the works will be named after the episodes in the show.
> 
> I'd really appreciate your feedback on this because I want to make sure I'm writing Mickey as accurately as possible. If this is going to be as good as I want it to be, I need to quite literally become him for a couple hours a day.
> 
> *Gives you the bird because we're in the shameless fandom and this is the best way of expressing my affection and love for you all*

Mickey slumped against the shower wall, chest heaving, legs shaking. 

He couldn't fucking do it. He didn't know what it was, but sticking his fingers up his own ass just didn't get him off the same. His fingers weren't long enough, weren't slender enough. He couldn't get the angle  _just right_. Basically, he couldn't get it to feel as fucking good as Gallagher somehow could. He'd given up in the end, pulling his fingers out and wrapping his hand around his cock to jerk himself off instead. He wanted to cry, scream, pummel Ian Gallagher's face for making him this fucking horny and miserable and confused.

Mickey didn't know how to explain it, but he felt like an addict. It'd only taken the one hit. But Mickey was hooked. He  _wanted_ the redhead. Could literally think of nothing but being fucked by the kid again. 

Mickey banged his forehead against the tiles.

_Fucking Gallagher._

 

"Got any Slim Jims in this shit hole?" Mickey asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

He'd tried banging Angie earlier, but that had been fucking disastrous. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get it up for a chick ever again. Ian Gallagher had fucking ruined girls for him.  

Mickey watches impatiently as a woman in a dumb orange hat leaves the store, and is relieved when Ian gets up and locks the door behind him.

 _Thank fucking Christ_.

Mickey glances to the back of the store and then to Ian again. He feels uncomfortable, but, admittedly, better now that Ian's obviously on board. This whole thing was just a shit-show waiting to happen, but he'd been hopeful nonetheless.

"Yeah, in the back room." Ian replies as he walks past, eyes fixed playfully on Mickey.

Mickey tries his best to keep the smirk off his face as he walks behind Gallagher, shamelessly eyeing his ass and unwrapping the scarf from around his neck. Ian is shrugging out of his plaid over-shirt and Mickey really fucking hopes this means Gallagher is just as eager as he is.

Mickey scrambled to undo his belt the minute they were out of view, tossing his jacket onto the floor, and then yanking his pants and boxers down to his ankles in one go. He twisted round to make some wise-ass remark, hoping to remove some of the tension from the moment, but was surprised by the way Gallagher flipped him back around and slid a hand up the length of his back until he was bent over, hands gripping the shelf for balance. Clearly, Ian wasn't feeling like much of a Chatty Cathy today. It made Mickey wonder if Ian had been thinking about this just as much as he had. He wondered if Ian was just as angry and pent-up and frustrated as he was. 

"You got lube on you?" Ian asked, his voice a low, heated rumble.

"Do I look like I carry fucking lube? I'm not a damn faggot, firecrotch." Mickey retorted, trying to sound aggressive and ultimately failing.

"Mmhmm." Ian murmured, and Mickey swore he could hear the smirk in his voice, the rolling of his blue-green eyes. "Good job we've already got some back here then, huh?"

"Stealin' lube now, Gallagher?" Mickey snorted. "You might wanna steal a condom too while you're at it."

"Don't need to. Got one in my pocket." Ian replied. "Don't move."

Mickey waited impatiently while Ian fumbled around behind him, feeling exposed and annoyingly nervous. 

"Okay." Ian murmured, one hand gripping hold of his hip. "You ready for me?"

"Who says shi-" Mickey began, his voice teetering off when Ian pushed a lubricated finger inside him with no pretense.

"What was that?" Gallagher asks him smugly.

"Fu- _fuck_." Is all Mickey manages to get out.

"Yeah. That's what I thought."

 _Prick_.

He couldn't deny though, that this was fucking  _it._ This was what he'd been after. This was- this was just  _so fucking good._

"More." He demanded.

As a rule, Mickey didn't beg, he didn't do desperate. Except, right now he _was_ fucking desperate. And, luckily, Ian was happy to oblige, pushing in a second finger to help work him open.

"Like that? Hm?" Ian whispered, his mouth hot against the shell of Mickey's ear. "You like it like that, Mick?"

Mickey nodded, pushing back to chase the feeling, his mouth falling unhinged, as Ian simultaneously rubbed against his prostate and added a third finger. 

It was all so fucking fast and so damn perfect.

Ian thrusted the digits inside Mickey until he was hot and wet and clenching to be filled further. He pulled them out slowly, grinning widely at the whimper Mickey unknowingly let slip from his lips.

Soon enough, Ian was rolling the condom on, gripping Mickey by both hips, and pushing the head of his cock inside the tight heat.

"Holy shit..." Mickey mumbled, his voice thin and strained. 

"Yeah." Ian muttered in reply, though the sound barely reached Mickey's ears. 

Mickey chews on his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut as he wills himself to just  _breathe._ He's trying to keep his fucking chill, but right now, with Gallagher balls deep inside him, he's having a really fucking hard time. And shit, did he really just think that?  _Hard time?_ Holy shit, he was fucking making puns with a dick up his ass.

"Been thinking 'bout this, 'bout fucking you." Ian mumbles against Mickey's back, patiently waiting for him to adjust. "Been jerking off to it. Thinking 'bout your ass. How fucking tight it is."

And, really, this isn't fucking helping. "Will you  _move? Please?"_

Ian's fingertips dig harder into the juts of his hipbones, his nails undoubtedly leaving crescent-shaped marks, as he pulls out and pistons back in. Mickey grips tightly onto the metal shelf, his knuckles white, as he feels the breath whoosh out of him. Ian starts out slowly, building the pace gradually until he's fucking pounding into Mickey, both of them struggling to get enough oxygen into their lungs. And really, Mickey thinks this might be how he dies. He'll just be fucked into oblivion.

"Fuck, that's good." Ian grunts, shifting his stance and thrusting at a slightly different angle.

Mickey practically screams at the force with which Ian is suddenly hitting his prostate. His mouth is dry, hanging open, and he reaches down between his legs to stroke his weeping cock. He's a little surprised, to say the least, when Ian slaps his hand away and takes over, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Mickey can't fucking think, doesn't know what sensation to concentrate on first. It all just feels so fucking good, so damn overwhelming.

"Gonna- Mick, I'm gonna-" Ian murmurs, teeth clamping down on his shoulder.

And Mickey just fucking loses it, spurting out over Ian's hand, bringing the redhead along with him. Ian falls against him, panting, both of them shuddering slightly from the aftershocks.

Mickey wanted to push Ian off him, create a little space between them, but he was pretty sure he couldn't move a damn muscle. This was the part he was frightened of. The intimacy of after. He wanted no part of it.

"Get off me. You're fucking heavy." He grumbled.

Ian pulled out silently and stepped backwards, making Mickey shiver as he was left bereft of his body heat. Mickey pulled his underwear and pants back up, grabbing his jacket from the floor, without sparing Ian so much as a glance. When he did look up though, Ian's eyes were fixed intensely on him, following every movement. Mickey shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

"I gotta go." He mumbled lamely.

Ian nodded.

"You gonna let me out then or what?" He snapped, but there was no real heat behind it. "You locked the fucking door."

"Shit, yeah. Sorry." The redhead mumbled, walking out the back room hastily.

Neither of them mentioned that Mickey could have just as easily unlocked the door himself.

Mickey followed him, eyes flicking around nervously when they got back outside. Knowing his luck, someone would look over and see the guilt on his face, see the whole thing for what it was. Someone would notice and they'd take it back to Terry. And then, Terry would kill him.

"So..." Ian says, his voice all fucking cute and hopeful. "Guess this was like a booty call, huh?"

Mickey focuses on wrapping his scarf back around his neck, pointedly looking everywhere other than Ian. He can just imagine the stupid puppy face he'll be pulling. The kid was like a twelve year-old girl.

"Whatever. See ya." Mickey says shortly, sniffing as he starts off across the street. 

 

_That was the last time._

_Shut it the fuck down._

 

Ian and Mandy were sat together on the couch, books on their laps, Mandy's legs thrown over Ian's thighs, when Mickey walked into the house.

"I'm telling you, it's right." He heard Mandy say, a rare, genuine smile on her face.

Mickey belches, because, well, he's Mickey. And, because Ian's Ian, the redhead grins up at him.

"Douchebags." He mutters as he walks past.

"Assface." Mandy calls after him, her voice cutting off when Mickey kicks his bedroom door shut behind him.

Mickey shrugs out of his coat, kicks his shoes off. He's trying not to think about the fact that the guy he's been fucking, the guy supposedly dating his sister, is sat in his living room. 

"Sure." He thinks he hears Ian say faintly.

Mickey turns at the sound of someone entering his room, swallowing thickly when he sees Ian carefully close the door behind him.

"The fuck you doin' in here?" He asks, but his voice is weak, almost afraid. Images of what happened the last time they were in Mickey's bedroom flickered through his mind. "Aren't you supposed to be with Mandy?"

"She's making pizza bagels." He replied, a wide grin pulling at his lips. "And besides, you know we're not really dating, don't you?"

"You're not?" Mickey asks. How the fuck was he supposed to know that? Wasn't like him and Mandy sat braiding each others hair talking 'bout dudes.

"In case you haven't noticed..." Ian said lowly, stepping closer to Mickey with half-lidded eyes. "She's not exactly my type."

"I dunno, man. Dark hair, blue eyes... Sounds like your type to me." He muttered, his smirk faltering almost immediately after it appeared. He was in the fucking danger zone here, skirting on the edge of some invisible precipice.

Suddenly, Ian is pushing him back against the wall, reaching down between them to grope his crotch. Mickey groans, his body arching into the touch, desperate to get closer. Gallagher was going to fucking kill him. He didn't understand how the kid could be like an eager, innocent puppy one minute, but then turn Mickey into a writhing mess the next. 

"Can't do this with Mandy though, can I?" Ian whispers, grabbing Mickey's ass with both hands and grinding against him.

"Get on me already." Mickey panted, pushing Ian back slightly and spinning to face the wall.

_Fuck, maybe just one more time._

 

Mickey waits for Ian to go back out to Mandy, and then he goes to the bathroom for a piss. He stares in the mirror whilst he washes his hands, looks at the way colour has spread high on his grubby cheeks, the way his hair is mussed from Gallagher getting a little too handsy. He pulls his shirt up just past his belly button, a smile tugging at his lips when he notices the purple, finger-shaped bruises on his hips and waist. Then, realising what the fuck he was doing, he frowned and slapped at his cheeks.  _Get it the fuck together._

He waltzed back out into the living room, trying his best to ignore the way Ian glances up at him, staring with heart-eyes like the fucking sun shone out his ass or something equally as gay. Him and Mandy were playing some racing game on the Xbox he'd managed to lift the week before.

Mickey grabbed a pizza bagel from the plate on the coffee table, collapsing down beside Ian with his Big Gulp cup in hand.

"Shove over, faggots." He said, sipping at his soda slowly and then snatching the controller from Ian. He needed to fucking do something with his hands. He needed to distract himself.

"Watch and learn." He mumbled through a mouthful of food, laughing when he crashed into the side of Mandy, knocking her off the track.

He could feel Ian's eyes on him, making him hot, his skin tingle in a way he was sure it never had before. 

He was so beyond fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I do not take credit for the dialogue from the show; I have simply used it to aid my own story and exploration of Mickey.  
> The credit for those parts goes deservedly to the writers.
> 
> Feel free to contact me: http://enochianess.tumblr.com


End file.
